When the Moonlight Fades Away
by guineapiggie
Summary: "But she was glad he'd woken her, glad he had bought her a few precious seconds to brace herself for what was coming. Because, even though this was their first full moon together, even though she'd never known another werewolf, she could roughly imagine what the transformation would do to him, Wolfsbane or not." One-shot, set between HBP and DH; fairly angsty


**When the Moonlight Fades Away**

**DISCLAIMER: **I am not JK Rowling, don't own a thing and this was written for the purpose of entertainment only.

**_*A/N* I don't know where this came from, but I wanted to write it down anyway. Hope you'll enjoy it and have a look at my other Harry Potter stories if you'd like._**

_Traduction française sur la page de _Peaseblossom-pixie_ sous le titre "Quand s'évanuit le clair de lune"._

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It was early morning, and twilight seeped into the small room from underneath the curtains.

She supposed he must have stumbled against the wardrobe in the corridor on his way in, she recognised the sound, having run into the bloody thing so many times herself. But she was glad he'd woken her, glad he had bought her a few precious seconds to brace herself for what was coming. Because, even though this was their first full moon together, even though she'd never known another werewolf, she could roughly imagine what the transformation would do to him, Wolfsbane or not.

"It hurts," had been all he'd said when she had asked him about the transformation, his voice flat and emotionless. Getting Remus to talk about himself was difficult as it was, and the whole werewolf issue was an extraordinarily delicate subject. But she had still pried further, told him she wanted to know what she was in for. He'd given her a pained little smile and a shrug. "Well, if Bellatrix ever got you with one of her Cruciatus curses, that should give you a fairly accurate idea," he'd added, still in this detached voice, calm as if he'd just commented on her pot plants. That had been what had hurt her the most, seeing how _used_ he'd become to it all, the pain, the solitude, the disgusted, scared looks that were cast his way wherever he went.

The steps outside stopped, and she was halfway out of bed already, thinking he might have fainted, was too weak to go on, possibly injured, in pain. But then the door handle moved tentatively, and with a treacherous little creak the door was pushed open just wide enough to let him in.

Even though her eyes weren't quite accustomed to the pale darkness yet, she could see he was carrying himself even more limply than usual, his steps slow and heavy. _He must have frozen half to death in those clothes,_ she wondered fleetingly before she pushed the silly thought from her mind. The cold surely was the last thing he worried about tonight.

He was looking awful, his face that she'd never seen look healthy resembled a dead body more than a living man. Something dark was smeared across his temple and she didn't take long to conclude it was blood. She swallowed hard, and almost choked on his name.

He dropped heavily on the bed and stared blindly at the ceiling. His breaths came unsteadily, shallow and strained. She could hardly imagine in how much pain he had to be - he hadn't even tried not to wake her, and if he wasn't looking out for her he had to be completely beside himself.

Carefully she reached out for him, with slow movements as if approaching a wounded animal. He let out a sharp breath when her fingertips brushed across his chest and she froze for a second, then rested her hand at his cheek.

"Remus." Her voice sounded pitiful to her ears and she was disgusted to hear how horrified it was. A sudden wave of hate washed over her. Oh, yes, she hated Greyback with a fierce passion, for her husband's pain and for the tears burning in her eyes; and herself just as much because she knew how she had to sound to him. Appalled.

"Look at me."

He turned his head slowly, looking right through her.

More tears stained the pillow at the sight of his eyes. Bright as they were in happy times, within their stolen, carefree moments, there had always been something troubled in them, a deep-seated sorrow. But now they were blunt and empty, the mischievous spark and the smouldering determination extinguished, and it scared her half to death.

She wanted to say something, anything, to make him understand that she wasn't scared of _him_, that she didn't think he was a monster - that she never _could_ think that - but there was no sound coming over her trembling lips.

So instead she ran her hands through his greying hair gently, trying her best to ignore what she was sure was blood on her fingers. Forcing a small, hopefully reassuring smile on her lips for good measure.

"Not running away screaming, see?" she muttered, tracing the deep lines on his face with her fingertips.

The strange opaque expression in his eyes didn't go away, but she caught a glimpse of something. Surprise, maybe.

But he still made no move towards her, and she realised it wasn't pain holding him back - he didn't want to scare her off. Merlin, he could be so ridiculous.

"You're a ruddy idiot if you think this changes anything," she whispered, almost angry at him for a moment. When he still didn't react, she threw all caution to the wind and kissed him, not like she usually did, but carefully, her fingers trying to find a patch of skin that wasn't sore and bruised.

Finally, he seemed to wake up somehow, his fingers tangling in her hair, kissing her back just as gently - ever the tender, careful one, as if she was the one who hurt. Tears ran down her cheeks and she couldn't tell which of them was crying.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"You've done more than enough," he gave back, his voice even huskier than usual and his eyes, finally focused again, firmly locked with hers.

Sometimes she wished he'd stop being so bloody… _noble_. "Seriously. I know you're hurt, I could heal-"

The ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. "Absolutely not, Dora. That would finish me off."

Despite the miserable sight of her husband and all the unspoken pain and fear between them, she had to laugh. The last things that man would lose were his humour and his damned kind-heartedness.

"Fine. But if you're not better by the morning, I'll hand you over to my mother."

She stifled his faint protest with another kiss, determined to at least distract him from his pain if he wouldn't let her take it away.

He fell asleep in her arms some time later, and as dawn came and the morning light streamed through the window, she drew the curtains, covered her husband and crawled back under the sheets.

She listened to his quiet breaths and the numb fear that had kept her awake since the moon had risen ebbed off slowly.

Within minutes, her eyes fell shut, too, the sleepless night taking its toll.

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